


Just Came To Say Goodbye

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Canon - Anime, F/M, Light Angst, Post-Anime, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8924143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: Stein wasn't a man to beg. Not Marie Mjolnir. Not anyone. But the "Please, don't go" was lodged in his throat, and he'd do anything to spit it out.





	

_“Couldn’t hear the thunder but I heard your heart race. Couldn’t see the rain, we’re too busy making hurricanes…I never needed you like I do right now.”_

* * *

He’d been thinking of ways to tell her, but every time his mind dared to string together any phrase at all, some plead, an appeal, a request, he immediately rejected it.

Franken Stein is not, was not, was never a man to _beg_. Not when he’s in any semblance of coherency, at least. 

Not for Marie Mjolnir. Not for anyone. 

So, why then, he wondered, was he so hung up on this, on her, that he was about to? 

Stein sighed heavily, leaning his cheek in his palm and staring at the screen saver of his computer screen. 

She’d only packed her bags a few days ago, and he’d wanted to convince himself, before then, that she was there to stay. That she wouldn’t leave, as she did when they were children. That, maybe, she would choose him, this time.

It was selfish of him, and foolish. Marie had no reason to stay in the home of a madman, though he was never that to her. She wasn’t meant to holed away, confined behind stitched up walls, so close to a graveyard. Marie belonged in Oceania, by a sparkling beach, breeze swaying her hair. Not here, where the sand was dead, dead dead dead, and he might as well be, besides. 

And, regardless, he’d never given her a reason to remain, anyway. Not even after she walked worlds for him, the only person who didn’t give up hope. He’d heard from Spirit after the Kishin was defeated, just a few weeks ago, that she’d quit her job, fought with him, walked such a long way, no direction at all. He hadn’t even thanked her. 

He hadn’t even held her. 

There was the ghost of warmth on his back, suddenly. The feeling of a chin on his shoulder, a ‘Welcome home’, a soft, tender voice, Marie’s heat against him.

And, just as soon, it was gone. 

Stein breathed in, deeply. 

Her flight was scheduled in just a few hours and he’d refused to have breakfast with her, telling her he had to finish something in his lab. Her voice, so heavy, told him that was fine. She’d wrap his half up for him. Leave it in the fridge.

Part of him resented her for that. For showing him a different life than one of takeout menus and pushing himself to the limit. For carefully guiding him to a bed so he could sleep, for telling him when he was exhausted. For making him believe he deserved better. For being better. For being the best. For ruining him to anyone else. Who else could compare, anyways?

He rubbed at his eyes. Inhale. Exhale. Think. How? Should he fake some sort of illness? A panic attack? Marie wanted to be where she was needed. But he didn’t need her. He just wanted her. 

He had no right. He had _no damn right._

He knew he couldn’t tell her. Shouldn’t. He knew she was it, for him, but she deserved better. He could resonate with any soul, but he’d never felt a pull at his like with Marie. And he knew as a boy, too. But he’d let her walk away. Only the actual apocalypse brought her back and that wasn’t going to happen, again, in ten years. 

Now. Or never. 

He didn’t. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

The knocking was a death knell, and his heart stuttered in his chest. After a pause, his vocal chords finally obeyed him. 

“…Yes?”

“Frank? It’s…it’s four. I need to…leave for my flight.”

“Oh,” he said. “I- okay.”

“…okay?”

Something stung at his eyes and he rubbed at them once more, but he didn’t understand. Perhaps some dust got caught. 

“…Frank, can I at least come in and say goodbye to your face?”

Stein ran a hand through his hair, suddenly realizing why Spirit called alcohol “liquid courage”. He felt like he needed some of his own. He nodded, despite knowing she couldn’t see, and stood up, slowly making his way to the door. 

His hand hesitated at the knob, but he turned it, opening the door to look at her.

It _ached_. 

“…Hi.”

Marie crooked a sad smile at him. “Hello.”

“Do you…would you prefer assistance with your bags?”

“I, uh, no, that’s okay. I think I can handle them. It’s sweet of you to offer, though.”

“Yes. Of course.” Sweet. Only Marie would ever consider him, scarred and bitter and cold, sweet. 

“I left the couches. You know, you needed something to sit on. If anyone ever visited.”

“No one ever did.”

Marie paused at that, her smile faltering completely. “Stein-”

He shrugged, feeling cold, even if she was there. “’s the truth.”

“Well…maybe your students will.”

“Maybe.”

The silence gaped. The words he wanted to say, the ones that were thumping in his chest, “Don’t go!” and “I’ll miss you” and “I’ll be miserable if you’re gone” and “you make life easier to live” were all squashed down. 

He had no business. No business at all saying such things to her. 

Marie chewed on her lip, looking at him. He was so transparent to her, always had been. 

And she knew, he could feel, that he wanted to say something. 

“If you want to…get something off your chest…I’m all ears, you know?”

And he did. _God,_ did he want to tell her. Want to say something. But the phrases didn’t come out, lodged in his throat. The silence stretched, and with it, her hopeful expression kept drooping. Kept being crushed. He _couldn’t._ And after a few moments, her expression got so _sad_ , so resigned. 

“Maybe in a different world, in a different time,” she started, before shaking her head. “Sorry. I shouldn’t force you.”

He could have sobbed, but he didn’t have any tears in him. How could he tell her that she’d never forced him to do anything? It was all him. All the tenderness he felt for her, that was by choice. 

But there was no romantic confession in him. No tears, no pleads, no promises. Not for Marie Mjolnir. Not for anyone. So he simply stood there, remembering back. How to tell her. If he should.

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. What has she done to him?

Marie’s eye looked wet. “Right…well…goodbye, Stein. You can always call,” she told him, though they both knew he wouldn’t. Even if he wanted to. 

His mind was never kind enough to do so, in the past. 

“Marie-” he started, but after he couldn’t finish the sentence, she only shook her head. 

“It’s okay…it’s not that far away, you know?” she told him, but it was. It was a world away. It was a life time away.

Maybe in a different life. 

She reached out, so hesitantly, and touched his hand. No doubt, she wanted to hug him, again. Because she loved him and he knew it. He’d known it when he was younger. He knew it, now, as a grown man.

And he _couldn’t_. He couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t find it in him. 

Her touch was warm, tender, delicate. The Pulverizer, so kind and pliant. And then it was gone, and she was turning away, and he wanted to reach out, wanted to call her name like he did in a nightmare, long passed. 

“Goodbye, Stein.”

And he flashed back to her body on the roof, to wind, to her hair billowing before she turned and fell, before she left, forever, body on the ground, the thud, the door thudding shut, her body thudding, the end the end the end, and-

Marie. _Marie._ Who else had he cared so deeply about, ever? His voice finally caught up to him, his body moving, but when he threw his door open, the taxi wasn’t there. 

“Please…please, don’t go,” he managed to choke out into the empty, dusty, barren air, but it was too late, and he knew it. He’d always known it. As a boy, he let her walk away, too, despite knowing that she loved him. Despite knowing that she was the only one for him, the only person who broke the walls and built them, both, the only one who cared enough to treat him tenderly.

Franken Stein was not a man to beg.

And when he did, she was already gone, gone, gone. 


End file.
